Ice Rink
by Diporae
Summary: 2k12 One shot. After the crossover episode Trans-dimensional Turtles, a certain vigilante of all people is struggling to cope with the events of the day.


* * *

 **A/N I do not own TMNT, but I am forever grateful for their existence!**

 **I am SO close to summer! Four more exams, one move, and that's it. It's been such a crazy year, and so it took me a while but I finally saw the cross-over episode and man did it give me some feels I had not expected. I admit I was even a little bit blindsided considering where I thought the episode would go. Anyway, this little piece was inspired by it and I couldn't help but pump it out after my exam this morning.**

* * *

They were quiet upon their return from their dimension hopping. Casey got it.

He did.

If he had been forced to leave his father behind knowing what lay for his dimensional duplicate in just a few short months, he'd be morose too. But he hadn't. The turtles had been granted the chance to return to their home – the way it had been – the way it was _supposed_ to be – and he hadn't.

He and April had been left behind with the Fugitoid, left wondering for hours as to if their friends would ever return to them. Of course they had – they always did – but somehow upon hearing the tale of what had drawn them away, Casey could not find relief. A sour lump curled up in his gut and at first opportunity he had slipped off alone. It hadn't been hard. The guys were so wrapped up in the dusting of memories that they hadn't even registered the teen sulk off into the depths of the ship.

April hadn't noticed either. Not that she saw much these days. None of them did. All that they focused on was the endless abyss of stars. The desperate hope that somehow they would find that last piece of what would inevitably bring about the earth's destruction became their only lodestone.

Casey got it.

It was all he thought about too.

Well he thought about a lot of things.

None of them were important.

After a short span of aimlessly wandering, his legs somehow brought him to the Holodeck. He hadn't actually been in it alone before. Why would he? He had no desire to conjure up the memories of his dead or soon-to-be dead father and sister. It was salt in a wound that had already been festering for months. Why would he make it worse?

Still, something drew him through those doors. A gentle whoosh was the only indication of the doors sliding closed behind him. For a moment he simply gazed at the metallic panelling lining the walls. Then, as if by magic – which he knew Donatello would adamantly argue otherwise – his surroundings dissolved and he found himself back on the rink. Just him and the ice. The old friend his skates would always yearn to kiss.

It was unsurprising when the blades materialized on his feet along with the rest of his gear. Even his worn Vikings Jersey, which had seen its fair share of fights and blood, hung over his padding. Above the fluorescent lights buzzed while the occasional one flickered. Without further hesitation, he began to skate around the perimeter. After the second lap, he went to the pile of pucks sitting obediently on the center line and began smacking them, one after another, down the ice and into the net. Just like he used to – before the end of the world.

He was thankful for the automaticity of movement. It was just enough effort to keep his mind from wandering, yet focused on the task at hand. Casey's teachers all used to say that was his problem – he couldn't focus – and they were right, at least as far as school was concerned. When it came to hockey though, he was one-minded. It was tunnel vision for him. Right from the moment he stepped onto the ice, and the brisk air of the arena was inhaled, it was as though he were another person entirely.

Someone who could help. Someone who could do right. Someone who had a use. Someone who was needed.

God knew how many times his coach had stretched the rules to help him stay on the team whenever his grades slipped precariously low. He always did it without hesitation too. Casey knew why. It was because they needed him.

Casey supposed it was only fair that he would need the team just as much.

Some of his best bros were on that team. The biggest bunch of weenies there ever were, but they were his weenies and he was one of them. At least, he had been.

Then he met the turtles and after that his life got a _little_ _crazy_. The invasion that forced them to flee to North Hampton, reclaiming the city, gang wars, Triceraton invaders… There was no doubt his life had once been a lot more simple when it compromised of school, home, and hockey. Casey didn't even bother to try and comprehend how his daily existence had even managed to change so dramatically. That sort of pondering had never been his shtick and he didn't want it to be. Life was too short. Earth being pulled into a black hole was proof of that.

So here he was instead, mindlessly shooting pucks, one after another. He had no idea how long he was there when he was shaken from his focus, "Hey man."

Casey watched his shot flop down against the net after losing its momentum before looking over where the doors to the ship's corridor once more closed. Yet, in that sort span of time, it was enough. The illusion was broken, and Casey was slapped with the reality that this wasn't his ice rink. All it was – all if ever would be – was some machine infiltrating his mind to dig up some useless memories and make them reality.

Returning his attention to a new puck he responded blandly, "Hey Raph."

It was silent for a moment except for the noise made from movement of Casey's stick work. As he swept up another puck, Raphael cleared his throat, "Dinner's ready – or breakfast. Whatever time it is now."

"Pretty sure lunch is the word you're looking for." He replied nonchalantly. His shot missed. With the echoing clang of the puck ricocheting off the net metal he sighed, "Be there in a few."

He expected Raphael to just up and leave. After all, that was what their relationship had devolved to these days. They didn't talk much. Not really much to talk to about after your world gets destroyed. And if there was, it was always laden with this unsaid weight. Casey Jones didn't have time for that.

"You've been in here a while."

It wasn't a judgement. Raphael had simply stated the obvious. Casey shook his head as he took another swing, "What, you miss me or something?"

"Miss your skinny ass?" Raphael scoffed, "Not on your life." His voice then lost its humour as he turned, "I can-"

SMACK

Raphael spun around just as another puck came zooming in his direction. This time it struck his plastron instead of his carapace. THWACK. After the puck bounced off his yellow chest he yelled, "What is wrong with you?!"

Casey didn't say anything. Instead he glared down at his next missile as he smacked it towards the turtle. Raphael didn't let this one in though. Instead he blithely dodged it before promptly vaulting himself over the perimeter wall. Scaled feet simultaneously adjusted to the slick surface as he ducked under another puck. Looking up he snapped, "Would you cut that out?"

In response another black bullet collided with his shoulder. Green eyes narrowed, "You got a death wish or something Jones? Because I will have no regrets frosting your ass if you send one more of those damn things my way."

Finally Casey responded, "Big talk for the guy without the skates."

He knew Raphael wouldn't bother to even summon a pair of turtle-sized skates. He and his brothers had always slid over the ice barefoot and no Holodeck was about to change that. "You'd think so, but skates won't help you on the rooftops Jones. Computer, give me some NYC skyline!" Immediately their surroundings dissolved and solidified into exactly what Raphael had demanded. Sadly, it had even taken Casey's gear, leaving him back in his sneakers and street clothes. The turtle cracked his knuckles as he walked closer, "Any last words?"

But Casey wasn't listening. Instead he was staring at the apartment across the way. Raphael must have summoned surroundings related to the vigilante just by simple association. So it wasn't surprising they would find themselves where Raphael would come to collect Casey for patrol: his home.

The computer didn't miss a thing. It looked exactly as Casey had once known it, but that was not what caught his sight. Instead, across the way, was a window alight with a soft luminescence. Of course Raphael had to have looked at Casey's dwelling once in a while even if he could never come inside. It was natural that eventually he would see and therefore make memories of the people he saw through those windows. Casey just hadn't expected the computer to snag even this information from the depths of Raphael's mind. For there, blanket over her head and flash light glowing beneath, was clearly Casey's little sister reading past her bedtime, a crime she had once performed notoriously almost every night.

Raphael paused and frowned at Casey's gaping and frozen demeanor before following the vigilante's line of sight. Green eyes widened before he called, "Computer, stop! Stop! We're done!"

Then they were back in space, surrounded by metallic paneling inside a ship chasing desperately after their last hope. Casey let out a gust of breath before sinking onto his butt. His feet stayed flat on the ground, knees bent as his hands supported his frame from behind. Raphael plopped down beside him and for several minutes was silent before speaking, "Sorry man. I didn't know."

Casey simply shook his head, "Not your fault Raph."

They were quiet for a while before Casey glanced over his shoulder to look at the reptile, "Guess that must have been how you guys felt earlier today huh?"

Raphael closed his eyes for a second before he exhaled and opened them, "Something like that."

"I don't know how Leo can stand to do it every day."

"Beats the hell out of me," Raphael muttered.

Silence settled over them once more. Finally Casey stood up and offered a hand to his friend, "Wanna shoot some pucks?"

Raphael pulled himself up and grinned as the ice rink once more formed beneath his feet, "You're on Jones."

* * *

 **A/N I don't know why I was compelled to write for Casey, but I was. Thanks all for reading and reviewing! Oh and don't forget to vote in the TMNT comp! You don't have to vote for me (yes yours truly was nominated – super grateful for it you guys!), but it's still worth checking out. There are a lot of amazing writers out there!**


End file.
